


Tethered To My Body Like A Helium Balloon

by EarlofShaftsberg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And now I can't stop thinking about how true it is, F/F, F/M, Harry compares her to Tommy Wiseau on accident once, Luna doesn't get any of them but I just cannot help myself, M/M, Magic Realism, No One Can Believe That Luna Lovegood Doesn't Like Weed, Other, gratuitous pop culture references, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14129226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarlofShaftsberg/pseuds/EarlofShaftsberg
Summary: There wasn’t much about herself Luna didn’t like. She found that this set her apart from most people. Her new coworkers, for example. They were all such lovely young people, yet they all seemed to be going through some sort of personal turmoil. Luna’s Dad called it ‘growing pains’, the kind that you have to experience as a twenty-something before you learn how to best navigate your life, now that your parents and teachers are no longer doing that for you.Luna’s therapists called that ‘depression’. Or ‘capitalism’. Luna found that she preferred to leave some things unnamed. The world seemed to disagree with her on that one.Or, Luna Lovegood works at a restaurant and learns to navigate work, friendships, labels, and the quiet but infectious charm of the restaurant's own Golden Boy.





	Tethered To My Body Like A Helium Balloon

It was five in the morning and Luna was sleepwalking to work. She didn’t mind the early shift; it was a pleasant and safe 20 minute walk to her restaurant, and she found she quite enjoyed spending half her workday in a sleepy daze. 

Besides, this had to be the easiest job she’d ever had. 10 quid per hour to stare off into the distance and maybe greet the odd guest that walked in for a meal? She had it in the bag. She’d only been a restaurant hostess for two months, and she was pretty sure she could do this job in her sleep.

‘It’s a fine day to test that theory,’ she said in a pleasant tone to the old oak tree that marked the halfway point between her house and the restaurant. Both Luna and her Dad had a case of nocturnal lagophthalmos, a disorder that made it difficult for them to keep their eyes shut during sleep. As a result, both father and daughter had a sort of faraway look about them, their eyes blurry and somewhat watery from all the eye drops.

Luna quite liked that about herself. There wasn’t much about herself Luna didn’t like. She found that this set her apart from most people. Her new coworkers, for example. They were all such lovely young people, yet they all seemed to be going through some sort of personal turmoil. Luna’s Dad called that ‘growing pains’, the kind that you have to experience as a twenty-something before you learn how to best navigate your life, now that your parents and teachers are no longer doing that for you.

Luna’s therapists called it ‘depression’. Or ‘capitalism’. Luna found that she preferred to leave some things unnamed. The world seemed to disagree with her on that one.

It was still dark by the time she made it to the front door of The Diadem. Luna’s favourite thing to do after punching in was to take her time cleaning the enormous revolving glass doors at the entrance, and to watch as the world came awake all around her. 

It began with the birds. The birds seemed to know the sun would rise before it was entirely sure of that itself. The birds had different songs for different types of mornings. If it was going to be an overcast day, which tended to be most days, their songs began in a minor key, so as to fit the melancholy weather. This was how Luna knew today would most likely be a bright, breezy morning. Two blackbirds were already in the middle of a vigorous and high-pitched chorus outside on the patio.

‘Ugh, make it stop,’ a scratchy female voice begged from somewhere inside. The voice belonged to Pansy Parkinson, a no-nonsense server that kept getting saddled with early morning shifts. Unlike Luna, she despised being up so early. Rumour had it, she’d pissed some big names off upstairs and this was their retribution. At least, that was what Neville had said. Luna didn’t concern herself with rumours. She didn’t really know what to do with them.

Restaurant work was a foreign experience for her. She’d spent most of her life studying abroad or working on projects with her father, and as such, she’d never really been part of a team. Granted, she had worked at a bookstore for a time before getting this job, but her only companion there had been an elderly deaf woman named Theresa. 

No, this restaurant was a completely different creature altogether. It was quite upscale, evidently, and it had an upstairs bar area and a roof that Luna didn’t seem to ever be allowed to visit. Which was a shame; Luna loved rooftops. It had a coffeehouse area as well, and this was where Neville and Ginny worked. Luna kind of wished she’d thought of applying to work there first. Ginny was the only person she’d known before getting the job, and both her and Neville were the first people Luna felt like she could call her friends in a long time. In twenty years, possibly. Which, incidentally, was how old Luna was.

‘What the hell are you doing, Lovegood? Are you coming in or what? She’s gone staring off at nothing again.’ Pansy informed Tonks, the restaurant manager. Luna smiled at them both and worldlessly skipped towards her host stand. 

‘God, I can’t stand morning people.’ Pansy said. ‘Longbottom, espresso shot, stat. Before I go on a murder spree.’

‘Stop bossing your coworkers around, Pansy. Only I can do that.’ Tonks said from where they were sitting cross-legged on the floor. They were focusing hard on making a new blackboard sign for the patio, tongue poking out between their lips. Luna didn’t know much about management, but she was positive that Nymphadora Tonks was the least threatening authority figure that ever existed. The General Manager, Al, however, was a grouchy mountain of a man. Luna didn’t know his full name. He hated being called ‘Al’, and the rest of the staff fondly referred to him as ‘Mr. Moody’, which didn't seem very nice. Luna figured she’d avoid referring to him altogether.

‘I’ll make you a coffee, Pansy,’ Luna offered. She didn’t mind Pansy’s venom. She’d known Pansies her whole life. She could handle them. It was the Nevilles of the world that were new to her. She figured sparing Neville from a Morning Pansy was a small, selfless gesture. It was what friends did for each other. Catching the grateful look he shot her from where he was hiding behind the espresso machine, Luna knew she’d made the right call.

It wasn’t always easy, navigating these new friendships. Luna’s therapists used to say she had a hard time recognizing social cues. Luna felt like she recognized them just fine, she just wasn’t sure she always had the adequate reaction for them at hand. Or whether they even required one, sometimes. It had taken her weeks to realize that what one of the barkeeps, Dean, was doing every morning, was going for a fist bump. She’d just thought he liked horizontally punching the air. 

‘You’ve left me hanging so many times, L,’ he laughed once she’d finally gotten the hang of it. It was probably important that he’d kept greeting her that way until she figured it out. It was probably great that he came up with a fun little handshake for them after he was done laughing. This was probably what friendships were like. Luna had no real point of reference. People usually just laughed, and left it at that.

‘She wanted an espresso,’ Neville warned her from his hiding place. Luna looked down at her hands. She seemed to be in the middle of making a latte.

‘Oh, that’s alright. I’m sure she’ll like what I’ve done with it.’ Luna said cheerily and slid the cup closer to the kitchen area. Pansy took one look at it, and then glared. Neville seemed to be holding his breath. Luna reached up high and tapped him on the shoulder. People liked reassuring touches when they were distressed. She met Pansy’s glare with a smile and raised eyebrows.

‘What is this.’ Pansy said.

‘It’s a pansy!’ Luna said cheerily.

‘Are you taking the piss.’

‘The latte art. It’s a pansy leaf, see? Can’t do that with an espresso.’ 

Pansy regarded her coffee. She shot another annoyed look at Luna, and took the cup. 

‘You’re lucky I’m in desperate need of anything caffeinated.’ she grumbled quietly after taking a sip.

‘It’s yummy, yeah?’ Tonks said as they walked towards the coffeehouse. They were dragging the blackboard behind them, probably leaving a scratchy trail on the floor. ‘I keep telling Al we ought to transfer Luna to the coffeehouse. He says she’s the only polite host we have, though, so I’m afraid you’re stuck at the door, Lunes.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind. I like the singing.’ Luna said. Tonks gave her a puzzled look, but seemed to decide that polite silence was the way to go with this one. Pansy wore that face people had when they wanted to open their mouth and make a remark, but Tonks ushered her away, using the blackboard as a shield between Pansy and the coffeehouse. Neville let out a sigh of relief. Luna laughed.

 

Then, a funny thing happened. Luna blinked, and it was noon.

It was noon, and someone was talking to her. She blinked again. 

‘Um,’ said a voice that Luna couldn’t quite place, ‘Moody said to ask you for the seating plan?’ 

She followed the sounds to their source, which was a thin mouth centered underneath two slightly bewildered green eyes. Luna smiled at them. Then she zoomed out, and tried to get a better look at the owner of these interesting face bits. She found that she recognized him.

‘Oh, hi, Harry. Didn’t know it was you.’ 

Harry let out a surprised laugh. ‘Was that a The Room reference?’ he said, smiling big. ‘Love that movie. Dumbest thing I’ve ever seen, makes me feel better about myself every time.’

Luna cocked her head to the side and stared, not quite sure she understood. Harry’s smile powered through the silence valiantly, but his eye contact didn’t quite make it all the way. He looked around aimlessly.

‘So, um, the seating chart?’ he said.

‘Oh yes, you’re quite right,’ Luna said and softly shuffled through one of her drawers. She handed Harry a messy little whiteboard.

‘What’s this? You’ve colour-coordinated them? That’s wicked!’ Harry said, inspecting the board. ‘This makes it so much more organized, thanks!’

Luna blinked again, this time pointing her huge eyes in the direction of the colourful seating plan. ‘Oh, yes, I suppose I have. You’re welcome. Unless I did a shoddy job of it, in which case, I’m sorry. I wasn’t there for it either way, you see.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I float away sometimes. Like a balloon. But never too far. Today I was probably lounging on the ceiling, or perhaps I never even left my bed. I’m pretty sure I did, though. I remember this morning just fine. I was definitely there when I made Pansy her pansy coffee. But I wasn’t there for the seating chart. Isn’t that funny? I wish the rest of myself got to take a break like that too. But now I’m back, and my body is tired. Which is why I’m trying to learn how to sleep while I do it. I sleep with my eyes open sometimes, so it wouldn’t be noticeable, I don’t think. Although that’s probably unprofessional, being a sleeping hostess. Bad for business.’

It was now Harry’s turn to blink and cock his head. This was a look Luna was familiar with. She’d probably expressed herself in a way that was foreign to him. Which type will Harry be? She wondered distantly. Would he be the dismissive kind, the sort to shake his head and decide not to ask? Or would he go for a friendly laugh, perhaps comment on her strangeness in a non-malicious way? Perhaps he’d become agitated and demand that she explained herself and stopped spewing nonsense. Luna didn’t know Harry all that well yet, but she thought he was nice, so she decided he’d probably be one of the nice ones now, too.

‘Are you…’ Harry began, and then seemed to shake himself. ‘What you just described, that sounds like dissociation. Have you ever heard of that term?’

Luna shook her head no. Harry gave her a small, self-conscious smile. 

‘Dissociation is when you sort of take a backseat inside your own head and go on autopilot for a bit. It can feel like things aren’t real sometimes, or like time passes weird. Sometimes you straight up don’t remember pockets of time. Hours. I, uh, I had that as a kid. Diagnosed it as an adult, as it were. You described that very well, um.’

Luna absently toyed with a lock of her hair. She thought she might have heard of dissociation before, after all. It was probably one of the things her therapists had tried to explain to her Dad. Luna wasn’t surprised they had a name for her floating tendencies. They had names for all sorts of her tendencies. She was surprised, however, that Harry knew that name. Even more surprisingly, he seemed to perfectly understand what Luna had been trying to say. She had no point of reference for that, either.

‘Harry?’ 

‘Yes?’

‘What I’m about to ask might make you uncomfortable, so you should know that it’s okay if you don’t know the answer. Think of it as an experiment.’ 

‘Uh… okay?’

‘What’s my name?’

‘Sorry?’

‘What’s my name?’ Luna repeated, a small knowing smile tugging at her lips.

Harry stared at her, frozen. 

‘Why you gotta do me like that?’ He finally said in a small voice. It sounded vaguely American.

‘It’s no problem! I can tell you my name if you want me to.’

At that, Harry did shake his head. ‘Why wouldn’t I… Of course I do. I’m so sorry, it’s just that you’re new, and I mostly work upstairs, and we go through hosts so fast here…’

‘Oi, Looney Tunes, I asked you to water table 10 about as many minutes ago!’ 

Draco Malfoy certainly had a wide vocal range, Luna thought. He was sauntering towards the host stand, glass water pitcher in each hand, looking martyred. His holographic nail polish glistened along with the sloshing water. ‘Pansy, God love her, but she’s in one of her moods today and refuses to cooperate. Please do keep up. Oh, hey Potter.’

‘Malfoy.’ Harry nodded in greeting. They regarded each other. Draco coughed.

‘How can we help you today?’ he asked in a clipped tone.

Harry held up the seating chart. ‘Got what I needed, thanks.’ 

‘Alright, then. See ya.’ Draco turned away from him and handed one of the pitchers to Luna, who’d already extended a hand to grab one. ‘Table 10. Water. S’il te plait?’

Luna obediently made her way to her table. Once she was done filling up the glasses, she looked up to see Harry, apologetic expression still intact, waiting expectantly behind the guests’ chairs. 

Remembering herself, Luna extended a slightly wet hand. This was how people made introductions. Harry took her hand and gave it an earnest shake. He bounced on his feet, waiting. Luna drew in a big breath.

‘Hello Harry Potter, nice to officially meet you. I know your full name because I’m the hostess and it’s my job to know everyone’s full names. And their schedules. My name is Luna. Luna Lovegood. People call me Loony sometimes? I can’t seem to shake it off no matter where I go. Tonks calls me Lunes, which is strange. Pansy calls everyone by their last name, and she enjoys making jokes about mine and Neville’s surnames sometimes. Draco’s nicknames are quite colourful, as I’m sure the whole restaurant heard a minute ago. He called me Lunar Eclipse once. He’s funny, Draco. Dean calls me L, because Dean is cool and has secret handshakes with people. Seamus, he calls me L too, probably because of Dean. Ginny and Neville are my friends, and they just call me Luna.’

Harry considered all of this, nodding along. 

At last, he said, ‘I think I’ll call you Luna too, if that’s alright. If that’s what your friends call you, I mean.’ He smiled lopsidedly. Luna widened her eyes and nodded vigorously. It _was_ what her friends called her! If she wasn’t mistaken, this meant that Harry wanted to be her friend. 

‘You can just call me Harry,’ Harry continued. ‘And no, it’s not short for Harold. No matter what Malfoy says.’ He rolled his eyes towards the host stand, where Draco was currently checking his nails and pretending not to eavesdrop from. ‘And please, no Haz either. Only Ron gets to call me that. And only when he’s mad pissed. I’m talking seven martinis pissed, right?’

Luna nodded seriously, taking it all in. She knew Ron, he was Ginny’s big brother. He was funny. She’d probably have to forgive him if he ever called her Loony while drunk, too. She understood where Harry was coming from. She told Harry this. Harry laughed.

‘Alright, well, sorry again I never learned your name. You’ve worked here for about two months now, yeah? No excuse.’ Harry said, walking backwards. He didn’t seem to be overly fond of making eye contact, Luna noticed. Her Dad once said that people needed to take breaks from looking at each other because they were afraid of intimacy. Luna absently wondered if Harry was one of those people her Dad had talked about. ‘I best get these to Moody before he gets, um, well, moody. Nice to finally properly meet you, Luna!’ 

Luna waved back at him as he began to ascend the stairs. This was how friendships began, she was pretty certain. She skipped towards the host stand. Draco leaned towards her in a conspiratorial manner, eyes following Harry’s back as it slowly disappeared up the staircase.

‘God, he has the ugliest hair I’ve ever seen. Did you know, I heard he uses hairspray to keep it up like that? He says it’s so he doesn’t touch it while working. And yet he’s always messing with it. Idiot.’ Draco sniffed. ‘I have the weirdest crush on him.’

 

***

 

Everyone seemed to have a small crush on Harry Potter, it seemed. Neville’s entire world lit up whenever Harry dropped by the coffeehouse. Pansy became a hundred times more hostile when he was around, which, as everyone knew, was her brand of flirting. Luna was pretty sure Neville was straight, and Pansy was, in her own words, a humongous lesbian, so she decided that Harry’s essence must have contained some extremely magnetic stardust back when they were all still just gases and energy, floating through a time-free cosmos. 

‘Oh yeah, he’s always been that way,’ Ginny agreed when Luna shared her magnetic stardust theory with her one day. ‘I was legit in love with him for most of secondary school. We even dated for a bit. Didn’t work out, obviously. Neither of us was in the right headspace for it to actually last. He had a lot of shit he was avoiding, and, well. I guess I did too.’

Ginny, Luna assumed, was referring to the fact that it had taken her about nineteen years to figure out she was bisexual. She came out last year. No one was surprised. Except maybe her brother, Ron. Luna heard tales of a sibling shouting match about truth and honesty and... promiscuity? It had transpired upstairs and apparently began with Ginny telling Ron she was seeing Dean, and then Ginny coming out as bisexual, and then Dean coming out as bisexual in solidarity, and then Seamus coming out and telling Dean he was gay, and then it ended with Dean and Seamus confessing their love for each other. It all sounded quite sweet to Luna, really. But apparently it was the reason no one was allowed on the roof anymore. Something about that rooftop gave people a flare for the dramatics, Moody had decided. ‘And none of you need any more encouragement in that department.’ He’d barked at them, his good eye lingering in Draco and Pansy’s direction.

‘Me and Dean were a bit of a thing at the time, see,’ Ginny told Luna. ‘But I think I just really liked talking to him about stuff. I was getting over Harry, but I was also dealing with all of this stuff I feel about girls too, and he’d always known he was bi. He was just not out yet. So sharing all of that really made us click, y’know?’ Ginny smiled ruefully. ‘Ron, bless him, he didn’t get it. He thought that me dating another bloke we work with was me being easy, and the bisexuality thing was just the icing on the cake. He’s good now, though. Hermione whipped him a new one. Besides, most of our friends are queer. It’s not exactly a novelty.’

It really wasn’t a novelty at The Diadem, as Luna was quick to learn upon landing her hosting position there. Neville was probably the only straight coworker she had, and even he joked that he would snog Harry if only he had a few drinks in him. Liquid luck, he called it.

No one seemed eager to nag Harry about his sexual preference, which was probably due in part to that magnetism of his. He just was what he was. He was Harry. No one questioned it. Not openly, anyway.

‘He’s a total Golden Boy, are you kidding me?’ Luna heard Draco say to Pansy in a low voice. ‘Golden Boys are always straight. Bland, boring straight guys. Plus, he’s been dating that Susan Bones girl for two years now. I can practically hear the bland boring straight wedding bells.’

Luna took note of all this despite herself. Curious creature that she was by nature, she couldn’t help but care what her new friends had to say about themselves, and about each other. This was another part of friendship, she supposed.

 

***

 

And so, inevitably, came Luna’s turn to be scrutinized. She and a handful of her coworkers were having drinks at Ginny’s place one night, and Pansy must have turned to ask Luna about her favourite sex position, or something else in that vein. Luna wasn’t sure, she hadn’t been paying much attention. She’d zoned out, bored, and watched Neville’s face change colours like a mood ring. Neville tended to blush fiercely whenever the others talked about sex. Which was incredibly often. Were all twenty-somethings so eager to talk about these things?

Pansy huffed out a laugh. ‘You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you Lovegood?’

‘No, sorry, could you repeat the question? Neville, would you like some water? You are currently the same shade of red as my radish earring, look.’ 

This made Neville go purple. 

‘Ah, missed it.’ Luna said, putting her earring back on.

‘Drop it, Parkinson.’ Ginny warned, casting a concerned glance in Neville’s direction. ‘Not everyone is as sex positive as you.’

‘Or you,’ Pansy shot back with a smirk. Ginny rolled her eyes, but said nothing. 

‘Or me!’ Draco interjected, walking into the sitting room with a vice-like grip on his Diet Coke. He was in recovery from drinking too much alcohol. He told Luna this after downing some painkillers to fight off a wicked hangover one morning. Luna wasn’t exactly sure how this recovery thing was supposed to work. ‘Wait, what are we talking about?’

‘We are talking about how we’re a wonderful mix of sluts and virgins right now. Such diversity.’ Pansy said. Draco laughed merrily and sat himself down between Pansy and Neville, which made Neville squirm. Neville was an exceptionally uncomfortable person, Luna thought. There really was no need for all that.

‘’M not a virgin,’ Neville said. All eyes went to him. Mouths were beginning to open. Luna knew those expressions. Neville looked like he did, too. He looked like he was regretting every single one of his life choices.

‘I am.’ Luna offered. She was sitting on the floor, sipping on her Barbecue Bloody Mary. She quite liked the bacon straw that came with it, courtesy of Ginny’s secondhand bartender knowledge, passed down from her brother.

Four pairs of eyes looked down at her, now. They didn’t seem to know how to react. People don’t often admit they’re virgins, Luna presumed. The reason why was a bit lost on her.

‘I wanna say I’m surprised, but…’ Pansy began. ‘Hey! You thought it too!’ she added when Draco nudged her. 

‘So you’ve never…’ Ginny began.

‘Nope!’ Luna said cheerily.

‘But aren’t you like twenty-two?’ Draco asked.

‘I’m twenty.’

‘Oh. You seem… adultier somehow.’

‘She looks twelve.’

‘Yeah, I meant mature.’

‘She literally skips towards people instead of just walking normally.’

‘Oh fuck off Pansy, maybe she seems mature because I’m so used to you behaving like a giant baby all the time.’

‘Whatever. Twenty’s not too bad. You can still catch up. Want me to help?’

Now it was Pansy’s turn to have four incredulous pairs of eyes turned towards her. She scoffed.

‘Oh please, spare me. I meant as a wingwoman. I’m an excellent wingwoman. Just ask these two.’ She pointed between Ginny and Draco. They both nodded, albeit begrudgingly. ‘So, what’s your type?’

‘Pardon?’ Luna said, chewing on her bacon.

‘Your type, y’know? Thick, thin, hairy, bald, penis, vagina, all that.’

‘That is so cisnormative!’ Draco quipped.

‘Didn’t say who they had to be attached to, did I?’ Pansy shot back. ‘Well?’ She looked at Luna expectantly.

Luna cocked her head, considering. Her type? She thought about the two times she’d kissed someone. Her first kiss was with an extremely tall boy that had asked her to dance. She didn’t enjoy dancing at the time, but he seemed really excited, so she’d accepted. He’d kissed her eagerly, never closing his eyes. She knew this because she’d never closed her eyes, either. It felt a lot like gnawing on an uncooked fish. So, tall boys were probably not her type, then.

Her second kiss had been with an extremely inebriated girl at a music festival. Luna learned that she only somewhat enjoyed dancing at music festivals. That kiss had been nicer, but it still didn’t taste very good. It had tasted like cigarettes. And the girl’s hands wandered around a lot, which had made Luna uneasy. She’d been a bit drunk herself, but not nearly drunk enough to play along. 

‘I don’t think I have a type.’ Luna decided. 

‘That’s what I used to think, too.’ Ginny said. ‘Turns out I was just avoiding thinking about how I have a girl type as well as a boy type.’

‘Your boy type is bland, dark and handsome, then.’ said Draco at the same time as Pansy said ‘Ooooh, what’s your girl type?’

‘I also have a non-binary type,’ Ginny sniffed, ignoring them both. ‘It’s all quite mathematical, really.’

‘Is your non-binary type cute, clumsy, purple hair? Because if so, I know a certain manager…’

‘Oh my god, _Ginevra_. You’re blushing.’

‘Holy shit, I was kidding! Tonks is way too old for you. They’re like, twenty- _six_.

‘Piss off, Malfoy. I know all about your sugar daddies.’

‘Oi, it’s different for blokes and you know it.’

‘Do I?’

They went back and forth like that for a while. It was easy to tune them out, so Luna allowed herself to exit the premises. From her balloon-like state up there on the ceiling, Luna looked down at her Bloody Mary. The bacon straw was gone.

 

***

 

A low buzz stirred Luna from her afternoon nap. She hadn’t meant to take one; she’d been meditating on a piece about astral projection she was helping her Dad write for his paper and she must have fallen asleep. Meditating often turned into naptime with her. Stuff like this was why Luna, to literally everyone’s surprise, did not enjoy smoking pot. Even her Dad couldn’t quite believe it, free-spirited as he was. But Luna constantly found herself in a bit of a dreamy and snoozy state of existence, so weed tended to feel like such an unnecessary addition. So was meditation, apparently. Hence, naps.

The buzz had come from her phone. Luna opened it, squinting at the bright screen. It was a text from Neville. Just the words ‘Thought this might sound familiar x’, and a link to a page about something called Asexuality.

Luna opened the link, skimmed the page, locked her phone, and promptly went back to sleep.

 

***

 

‘Well?’ Neville asked her excitedly the next day.

‘Hello, Neville.’ Luna raised her head from the blackboard she was doodling on and flashed him an easy smile. ‘Could you pass me the purple?’ She said, nodding towards a purple marker that was just out of her reach.

Neville kicked the marker closer and then sat down next to her. It was 5:30am and they were the first ones to punch in. The patio blackbirds sounded quite flat today. This told Luna it would probably rain. She hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, but that was alright. She didn’t mind the rain. It was lightning bolts she wasn’t too fond of. Can’t survive those as easily as one can survive a cold.

‘Did you see the link I sent you?’

‘Yes, I did. An asexual person is someone who does not experience sexual attraction. Asexuality is a spectrum.’ Luna quoted in a sing-song voice. ‘Their pride flag is very pretty.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ Neville said. ‘And did any of it sound familiar to you?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. My mind was a bit fuzzy from the meditation nap. Did it sound familiar to you?’

Neville shifted. ‘About you? A bit, yeah… I mean, I don’t know you that well yet, so I’m sorry if I made assumptions. It’s just… yeah. I suppose it rings a bell for me too, y’know, did you read the bit about demisexuality?’

Luna shook her head. She’d fallen back asleep before getting that far.

‘It’s when you only feel attracted to someone you’re extremely close to. Like, good friends. Every girl I’ve liked that way was my mate for years first. Apparently that’s not as common as I once thought. And even then… I dunno. I dunno about the sex part.’ He cleared his throat. He looked like he was trying really hard not to blush. ‘Anyway, I thought maybe you’d relate. Or maybe I was just projecting. I’ve never met another asexual person. I suppose I was excited.’

People did tend to project their own selves onto her, Luna realized. Her Dad did that on a daily basis. One time he even referred to her as his young, beautiful mirror. Luna didn’t mind being a mirror. But she thought she was beginning to mind all the labels and definitions that being someone’s mirror seemed to require. She preferred to let herself stay undefined, fuzzy around the edges. Perhaps she’d always minded. Perhaps this was why her Dad no longer sent her to see her therapists.

‘Or maybe you could be aromantic.’ Neville went on. ‘Or asexual and aromantic. Sometimes you can be both. I think one of Gin’s brothers is. Almost thirty. Never dated anyone, she says. Went off to New Zealand to become the new Steve Irwin or whatever. Married to his job. To his animals, hah. Not -- Not in a creepy way, though, I mean--’

‘I’ve liked people before,’ Luna interrupted him. Mirrors didn’t tend to talk back, but Luna thought she was quite finished being a mirror for today. ‘I suppose I just don’t prioritize these things above other things. I don’t know what that makes me. Maybe I’m on your spectrum, maybe I’m on Ginny’s spectrum. Maybe I’m on both. It’s really all the same to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go hang this up on the patio so people can enjoy it before the rain washes the paint off.’

‘Oh… Right.’ Neville said. He seemed to want to say something else (Luna knew that look), but got up and went back to his coffeehouse instead.

 

***

 

‘Tarts, eh? Someone let Potter know.’

‘You rang?’ Harry’s bedhead followed the rest of him down the stairs.

‘Tarts,’ was all Tonks said.

Harry wordlessly took the offered plate of leftover treacle tarts, then turned back around and climbed back up the stairs.

‘The boy just loves his tarts. He has a sixth sense for them.’ Tonks said fondly.

‘He’ll eat just about any leftovers, though. I’ve seen him stuff his face with a half eaten Tuna Taco.’ Draco sounded both repulsed and endeared.

‘S’troo!’ came a muffled voice from the stairs.

Everyone had a small crush on Harry Potter.

 _For once in my life,_ Luna thought absently, inspecting this strange new pull in her chest, _I’m just like everyone else._

 

***

 

Being just like everyone else got old incredibly fast. Luna had spent a lifetime observing these doomed mating rituals from the sidelines, all that one-sided pining and heartbreak. She was not prepared to become that predictable. Not now, not ever. 

She longed for the olden days, when her mind was just a pleasant whirl of thoughts and ideas. When her emotions were easy to feel, and understanding them was not a priority. When she could write the pull she felt towards Harry off as some stardust nonsense. This was not stardust nonsense. This was a bit exhausting.

‘Are you ever worried you’ve become a cliché?’ she asked her Dad one day. He was so taken aback by his daughter’s uncharacteristic line of questioning, he swayed and nearly lost his footing. He was doing yoga in their backyard wearing nothing but a hula skirt.

‘Why on Earth would I worry about whether I’ve become a cliché?’ Xenophilius Lovegood asked his daughter and took a sip of his kombucha tea. ‘Is there something you want to tell me, love?’

Luna frowned down at her crochet kit. She seemed to be doing a pattern that looked suspiciously like a lightning bolt. This had to stop.

‘I think I like someone. He’s exceptionally ordinary. In a way that makes everyone like him, I think. He isn’t like… Like you, or Mum.’

‘Or you?’ Her dad smiled softly.

‘I think he actually might be a bit like me.’

‘Really? How so?’

‘He knew exactly what I meant when I described the balloon thing. He said he had it too. The sensation of floating and losing memories sometimes.’

‘Disassociation?’

‘Sure, he called it something like that. Dissociation.’

‘He doesn’t sound ordinary to me.’

‘I don’t think he is. I think he just wants to be.’

‘Ah. And you don’t.’

‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘And you’ve no idea how proud that makes me, Moonshine.’ Xenophilius kissed his daughter’s forehead and made his way back inside, probably towards the kitchen. ‘But maybe a bit of introspection might do you some good just this once, yeah?’

Luna glanced at her lightning crochet pattern again. She wasn’t sure she agreed.

 

***

 

‘Have you ever seen The IT Crowd, Harry?’ Luna asked. She’d shown her Dad a picture of Harry earlier in the week, and he’d said Harry looked like an actor from the show. It was a slow Tuesday afternoon, and they were both lounging by the host stand, staring off into nothing. Harry seemed to be in a strange mood. He was making even less eye contact than usual.

‘I came here to drink milk and kick ass... and I've just finished my milk.’ He said in an incredibly monotone voice. ‘What, are you gonna tell me I look like Richard Ayoade? Never heard that one before.’

 _Just like everyone else_ , Luna’s mind whispered dejectedly.

She found herself feeling grateful when Pansy plopped down on the chair beside the host stand and demanded they gave her the latest gossip.

‘I’m _dead_ bored, lads.’ she informed them. ‘C’mon Potter, you were off work all weekend. How’s bae?’

Harry sighed. ‘Bae’s fine. She actually got right stroppy with me on Saturday,’ He didn’t seem to have any qualms about looking Pansy in the eye, Luna noted. Harry continued, ‘We were at her cousin’s wedding and apparently I drank too many vodka shots and got a bit too… enthusiastic about everything. Her family didn’t seem to care. She was livid, though. Sent me right off to bed, but I just got up and went to another bar. Made the whole thing worse.’

Pansy stared at him with a blank expression. ‘That,’ she said, ‘is the most heterosexual reason for a fight I’ve ever heard. I mean… Christ, Potter, you two’re a proper serious couple. Makes me want to gag.’ And gag she did. Loudly. Harry rolled his eyes and walked away without a word.

‘What, no comeback? What’s his fucking problem?’ said Pansy. She looked genuinely put out.

‘Leave him alone, Pansy.’ Ginny’s voice came from behind the coffee bar. She sounded stern. ‘Don’t you know what day it is?’

‘Tuesday?’

‘It’s Halloween, genius.’

‘So wha--oh.’

‘Yeah, oh.’

 

***

 

Later that night, Luna was at home, filling the role of a different sort of hostess. The weather forecast (and the blackbirds) had predicted a crisp October night, so she’d offered to host a Halloween party in her backyard. Her father had banished himself to the attic. The response to this last minute party idea was heartwarmingly enthusiastic. The Lovegoods’ humble abode was an absolute hit with each and every guest. 

‘Damn, L, I never realized you were so artistic! We should work on something together sometime.’ Dean Thomas said immediately upon venturing inside her house, which essentially looked like a child's drawing come to life. Dean was wearing a dog onesie, and his boyfriend, Seamus, wore an orange one, with fox ears.

‘The fox and the hound!’ wailed Draco, hands flying to his brunette wig, which seemed to jump up in alarm at the slightest turn of his head. ‘You two are so nauseatingly adorable. But I think Pansy and I have the couples costume award in the bag, don’t we love?’ 

Pansy was wearing a black crop top and a plaid blue skirt, and she’d done something new to her hair. Luna didn’t think she looked much different, but she and Draco claimed they were Veronica and J.D. from Heathers, some movie-slash-musical that they both liked. 

‘It looks like a giant rook, this house,’ Ron Weasley commented. ‘You know, like in chess?’ Luna had heard he was good at chess, and he was dressed up like one of those horse figurines, so she assumed that this was a compliment. 

‘It’s just so _quirky_!’ A drunk Hermione Granger kept saying. She had a red ribbon in her hair and wore a blue dress. She was either a Kiki or a Matilda; Luna wasn’t sure what the difference was. Hermione adjusted her ribbon and informed Luna that she ought to become an interior decorator. ‘You’ve got an eye, Loon--Luna. That’s a rare thing, an eye. Not a… not the organ, obviously, More like the perception of a, of the thing.’

Luna, having never hosted a party before, hadn’t really had any expectations going into this. And even if she was the kind of person that had expectations, this turnout would surely have exceeded them all. Everyone seemed to be having a lovely time. Ginny was snoozing on the canopy swing, her Peter Pan hat covering most of her face. Even Neville seemed to be enjoying himself. He was dressed up as a Star Trek character, Luna was pretty sure. Whichever one liked plants.

The purple and green light bulbs her Dad had installed onto the back wall of the house contributed to the surreal mood. The night sparkled. 

And yet…

Luna put the giant hourglass she’d been cradling down on the grass and headed towards her front lawn. It almost felt like she was floating, except she felt oddly present, the chill October air anchoring her firmly to her own body. She had no idea where she was going. She hardly ever did, if she were honest, but her feet always seemed to skip their way to the right destination eventually. 

‘Good evening, Harry,’ Luna greeted the slouched figure leaning on the slightly broken fence of her house. ‘You’re looking very French.’ she said, smiling in the general direction of his red beret. 

Harry’s eyes met hers for a split second. He managed a smile. ‘You gave me the idea at work earlier.’ He pointed at a nearly empty glass of milk. 

Luna felt her smile grow wider. ‘So, are you ready to kick some ass?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Seeing as you’ve clearly finished the milk.’

‘I hate milk, to be honest. I just met a hungry cat on the way.’ Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. ‘Not sure I’m up for kicking ass today, Luna. Sorry. I don’t even know how I made it this far.’

‘Must have been one friendly cat.’ Luna said seriously. That made Harry laugh. The sound seemed to shock him, and the laughter stopped as abruptly as it began. He looked strangely guilty. Luna sat down next to him.

‘August 18th.’ Luna said.

‘What?’

‘The day my Mum died. She got electrocuted. Engineering experiment gone wrong. I was right there.’ Luna pointed towards the back, where their garage was. ‘I saw it happen.’

‘God,’ Harry said. ‘How old were you?’

‘Nine.’

‘I was one. Don’t remember much.’

‘Is that why you dissociate?’

‘No. I dissociate because the family I lived with were abusive fucks. Is your Mum why you dissociate?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.’

‘What _do_ you think about, Luna?’

‘Oh, lots of things. Crazy things. Impossible things. As many as six before breakfast.’ 

Harry smiled softly. ‘Hermione would love you if she could just see past her books for five minutes.’ He said.

‘She did say I’ve got an eye.’ 

‘I’m sure you do.’

They sat in comfortable silence for a long while. In the distance, a thunder sounded. The blackbirds were wrong about this one. Nobody was perfect, Luna knew this. Not even blackbirds.

‘Who are you supposed to be, by the way?’ Harry asked, gently tugging at Luna’s beard. ‘Merlin?’

‘Good guess, Harry! But no cigar.’

‘No cigar?’ Harry laughed. ‘It’s so weird to hear you speak in platitudes.’

‘I’m not used to it either. This is all very new to me.’ 

‘What is?’

‘Everything. The Diadem. The friends. The parties. The… you.’

‘The me?’

‘Look, lightning,’ Luna blinked up at the sky. Surely enough, a bolt flashed right above them. Harry absently rubbed at his forehead. 

‘I like it when we talk, Luna.’

‘I like it when we just stand in the host area and stare off into the distance and don’t speak for thirty minutes, personally.’

‘I like that, too. Great Tuesday tradition.’

‘It’s my favourite. I’m Father Time,’ Luna said, going back to the thread of conversation they’d abandoned. ‘I left my hourglass at the party.’

‘Ah,’ Harry said, ‘You are dressed as the enemy.’

Luna considered this. ‘If he’s the enemy… is dissociation his weapon, or ours?’

Harry cocked his head to the side in a very Luna-like fashion. 

‘It’s probably just a neutral little bit of string,’ Harry decided, ‘You and I, we’re on one side of it, Time is on the other, and we’re all playing an endless game of tug of war.’

Luna hid behind her beard. Something wanted to burst out of her; she wasn’t sure if it was a cry of laughter, or just a regular old cry.

‘How did you know it was my parents’... That it was the anniversary of their passing?’ Harry asked. ‘Did Ginny tell you?’

Luna looked at Harry very carefully. He still seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. ‘She hinted at it all day. Trying to keep Pansy in check, I think. But, no. I wasn’t sure until I saw you out here just now. I know that look, I suppose.’

‘What look?’ Harry said, looking up at her.

‘That one.’ Luna put her beard under her chin and smiled a sad smile. Harry mirrored it. She reached out and awkwardly covered his hand with her palm. People in distress liked a reassuring touch. 

Harry laced his fingers between hers.

The rain came flooding down.

 

***

 

‘I knew it,’ Luna said. It came out muffled.

‘Knew wha’?’ Harry replied. That came out muffled too.

Luna nuzzled her head out of Harry’s shoulder and further into his collarbone.

‘That you’d be a good hugger.’ 

Harry huffed a laugh into her low, messy ponytail, which was the part of her he’d been burying his face into for the last few minutes.

It was a slow Tuesday, and the two of them had just finished their weekly tradition of quiet contemplation. The hug at the end was a new development, however. Luna thought she would quite like to see it become part of their weekly routine as well. 

‘The blackbirds didn’t sing at all today.’ Luna informed him as they broke apart.

‘They didn’t? What does it mean?’

‘That it’s the end of Time as we know it.’ Luna said breezily. ‘Or they’ve moved their duet to a different patio.’

‘Either, or,’ Harry agreed. He looked at Luna a bit more often nowadays; this felt important, somehow. 

‘I’m probably asexual,’ Luna said matter-of-factly. ‘And on the Autistic spectrum. I think they said Asperger, but we never really double checked.’

Harry nodded slowly, frowning. He seemed to be weighing the words he was about to say very carefully. Luna knew that look, too. It was one of her favourites. What followed was usually life-changing.

‘I hooked up with Malfoy,’ he finally said. ‘Last New Year’s.’

Luna thought that this was probably how her Dad felt when he watched an ostrich hatch from an egg. He recounted that story many times. He’d thought it was a fake egg. An ornament. And then a baby animal popped its ugly little beak out and started screeching. The miracle of life. So many surprises. So little we know. 

‘Susan knows, of course.’ Harry continued. ‘She didn’t really care. I think we’ve been broken up for a while now, we just haven’t admitted it to each other. I’m not entirely sure how we ended up dating, really. It just felt like the obvious thing to do, you know?’

Luna knew. She was so serene, she felt herself begin to float upwards toward the ceiling. She grabbed Harry’s hand for anchoring purposes, but he seemed to be more keen on joining her, both of them levitating freely above the ground. This was definitely better, she decided.

‘They’re just descriptions,’ Luna said. ‘Labels? They aren’t boxes, just descriptions.’ She did a slow-motion somersault in midair. Harry grabbed her by the waist while she was upside down and helped her do another one. 

‘They’re rubbish,’ Harry said. ‘I mean, I’m glad they exist. They’re necessary. But, as a biracial orphan boy with PTSD tremors and a giant scar splitting his forehead in half,’ he did a pirouette that nearly resulted in him hitting said scarred forehead on the chandelier, ‘Oops. I think I have the utmost right to say, Fuck Labels. I denounce them all. I’m me. I’m Harry. Just Harry.’

‘Hi, just Harry.’ Luna swam towards him. ‘I’m Luna.’

Harry met her with his arms wide open. She crashed into him, which sent them both bouncing lightly against the walls like pinballs. They ended up hovering back above the host stand, feet lightly grazing the edge of the monitor on top.

‘Hello, Luna,’ Harry was looking almost directly at her now, both hands playing with her dirty blonde mess of a ponytail. His fingers got tangled in a knot, and he accidentally pulled Luna down, hair-first, until she faced him, nose-to-nose.

‘There you are,’ Luna said when their eyes finally met. ‘Green.’ she greeted them.

‘Blue,’ they agreed. 

 

This kiss tasted like whatever leftovers Tonks happened to have given Harry that day. Waffles, Luna deduced. Blueberry waffles. And pudding. The pudding was probably her, actually. 

‘I think I quite enjoy dancing after all,’ she informed Harry when they both came down. ‘It never occurred to me to do it up there.’

Harry smiled and leaned down to kiss her again, parting her lips only slightly with his own. He pulled away gently, humming. ‘Seems quite enjoyable from down here, too.’ He said. ‘Don’t you agree?’

Luna agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I didn't intend to write this and post it so soon after, but it all came flooding out of me in one huge wave, so I figured I'd ride it out. I've loved Harry and Luna's dynamic for as long as I can remember. It was only a matter of time before this happened.
> 
> I hope the characters' voices still rang somewhat true to their canon counterparts. I obviously aged them up a bit, made them all far gayer, and bestowed upon them the burden of being Struggling Millennials working in the service industry. 
> 
> Write what you know, and all that.
> 
> The title was inspired by a tag I once saw on Tumblr. It was someone I follow, I still haven't found out who, but they tagged a post about dissociation that way, and it really stuck with me. I lost the post, but the words made it into my journal pages, and now into my fiction as well. If I ever find out whose words they were, I'll come back with an ETA.


End file.
